The Edge of Glory
by Eowyn Rain
Summary: While Kurt is relieved that Blaine came to his rescue on the dance floor when Dave ran out... something inside keeps nagging him. After the first few dances, he leaves to go find Dave...what could happen?
1. Following the King

**Title:** The Edge of Glory  
><strong>Part:<strong> 1 of (?)  
><strong>Rating:<strong> NC-17 (0_0)  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Kurtofsky, with some mentions of mild Klaine, Puck/Lauren, *hinted* Sam/Mercedes, Rachel, Finn, Artie, Brittany, Santana, Tina...basically all of the Glee kids are around here somewhere in this fic.

**Spoilers:** Prom Queen episode, AU after that  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> I wish I owned Glee. Alas, it's not for me. =(  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Originally written for the glee_kink_meme . After running away from the dance and Blaine saves Kurt, Kurt is relieved but something inside keeps nagging him. After the first few dances, he leaves Blaine at the prom, saying he has to go to the bathroom. He finds Dave crying in his truck in the school's parking lot, and puts both crowns together on the dashboard...

There is more, but I don't want to give the story away. ;)

I changed it up a little bit. Instead of going to the bathroom, Kurt goes outside to "get some air". Also, he doesn't find Dave in his truck, but they end up in Kurt's Escalade. It 's also probably going to be fluffier than what the original prompter thought possible. So, BEWARE THE FLUFF MONSTER! The title Comes from Lady Gaga's song The Edge of Glory.

**A/N:** Wow. This is my very first Kurtofsky fic ever! Not only that, but this is also the second NC-17 story I have ever written! Crazy, right?  
>I hope you all enjoy! Onward to the story!<p>

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><p>Kurt wasn't actually sure how he got into this situation.<p>

One second he was a virgin, excusing himself from the dance floor, telling Blaine and his friends that he was going to step outside for a breather, and to call Finn and see how his humiliated brother was doing...

...and the next, he was naked, (save for his kilt), bouncing, _writhing_ on Dave Karofsky's lap, riding his huge monster of a cock, moaning in the most intense pleasure he had ever felt in his **life**, as Dave gripped his hips, kissing his neck and jaw line, _whimpering_ into the pale, hot skin, like he would die if his lips were not touching.

If he had to guess though, through the lust cloud surrounding his brain, he would have guessed that this whole mess started...with that damn crown.

**-Forty-Five Minutes Earlier-**

Kurt and Blaine smiled as the photographer took another picture of the "Prom Queen", and _his_ date.

Blaine was the perfect knight in shining armor. When Dave ran out and left Kurt standing, stunned and alone, on the dance floor, Blaine stepped up and politely asked Kurt to dance.

Kurt was grateful, for sure, but...something was bothering him.

Even in Blaine's arms, dance after dance, he found his eyes trailing towards the doors Dave ran through, much like how his eyes kept being drawn to the boy in question the entire evening.

_Where did he go?_

When Kurt ran out from that horrible debacle, he found himself in a dark hallway of the school.  
>Dave, however, went out a pair of different doors than he did. Dave went out the doors that lead to the football field.<p>

_Was Dave on the bleachers outside?_

To be honest, it was kind of a cold night. At least the gym was heated. In fact, Kurt realized, as he tugged at his collar, it was starting to get positively **stifling** there. Maybe he should step outside for a minute, to get some fresh air...

_No_

No, that wasn't a good idea.

Even though he felt a tugging in his chest _to go outside_, _to get away_, to _just check and **see**_, he knew that he should just smile, enjoy his Prom, and ignore the itch, the gentle _ache_ in his chest.

Yes, it was his Prom, damn it! He made this fabulous outfit, he had the perfect date, and he had his friends around him. He deserved this, this bit of fun, this _utter teenage **bliss**_, especially after what happened with the crowning.

He was Kurt Hummel, and damn it, he WAS going to hold up his head, and _smirk_ in the faces of his peers. They wanted to crown him Queen? Well, then he would wear that fucking tiara, and own it. He wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing his tears.

_Who cared if the Prom King left, making a scene of the lone Prom Queen?_

Besides, Dave had been gone for a while now. Santana probably went after him after singing Dancing Queen, found him, demanded to go home, (after all, he got his crown, she did not), and would probably spread the rumor that she and Dave rented a hotel room, and started their _hetero private after-prom party_ a little early.

That was logical, and should have put his mind at ease.

Except, something was off. Something wasn't right.

_- Hazel eyes looked up at him from across the room, making his heart race -_

He looked towards the doors again, and then looked around him in the brightly colored, crate paper maze.

Blaine and Rachel were a few feet away from him, bopping their heads to the music, while Rachel was probably talking about the fact that Jesse and his brother had fought over her, and managed to get kicked out of Prom. Blaine had been on stage at the time, after all, singing about _when he was a little girl_.

Looking towards the dance floor, Kurt noticed that Mercedes was laughing to her heart's content as Sam's attempt to do The Hustle. Why Sam was going a botched up job of the Hustle during a _Ke$ha_ song was beyond him.

Artie had Brittany on his lap, spinning the two around and to the beat, sing along loudly to the lyrics.

Puck and Lauren were doing a ridiculous version of a messed-up tango, as they both tried to edge closer to the punch bowl, without alerting Coach Sylvester.

Looking over to his far right, Kurt noticed Quinn sitting in one of the chairs lined against the wall, Santana handing her a cup of the lemonade-spiked punch-

_Wait_

**Santana** and Quinn? Santana was still there?

Kurt's eyes widened, as his heart started to pound.

Blaine tugged at Kurt's sleeve.

"Hey Kurt? I'm going to get some punch, would you like some?"

Kurt waved him off, half-heartedly mumbling something or other, he wasn't quite sure himself, as he continued to look over towards Santana and Quinn.

That feeling in his chest was becoming more insistent, almost _begging_ him to walk out of those doors, and find his King.

The Prom King. The elected Prom King. David. Karofsky. Not his King, not like he belong to-

_*"Remember, wait for me here, right?"*_

Kurt's heart _lurched_, as he looked towards the doors again.

_Surely somebody had gone after him when he ran out, right?_

Kurt spotted Azimio dancing with a red haired girl in his English class, wearing an atrocious Kelly green and yellow mermaid style dress.

_Right?_

_Surely Dave wasn't alone, outside, in the cold. Surely he had gone home, and somebody had gone after him after he ran..._

Kurt started to race thought his thoughts of the past half hour.

Santana and Mercedes had been on stage when Dave ran out of the King and Queen's dance. Santana sang _Dancing Queen_ as he and Blaine twirled in the spot light.

Now that he thought about it, didn't Santana grab that one football player, Strando, and grind with him when she saw Brittany and Artie getting a picture together?

Didn't she also stand in line, and get her picture taken again?

Kurt felt himself pale.

Didn't he hear Santana talking to Lauren, Tina, and Brittany about how she insisted that she and Dave take her car, instead of Dave's truck, because she wanted to show up in style, instead of looking like they were going to a Hoe-Down?

Kurt's head was swimming, his knees were shaking, and the urge to rip those doors open and **run** was almost too overwhelming.

He was brought back to reality when he felt somebody shaking his shoulder.

"Kurt? Kurt, what's wrong?", Blaine asked, holding a plastic cup towards him.

"Are you ok Kurt?" Rachel asked as she laid her hand on his arm.

He had been so caught up in his thoughts over Dave, that he didn't notice his friends concerned looks when the song had ended.

Mercedes touched his forehead.

"Honey, you're not looking to good. Are you getting a fever?"

Sam walked up and placed an arm around his back.

"Maybe you should go sit down Kurt, you look like you're about to faint."

Kurt quickly glanced towards to doors again, and shook his head. Nodding his thank to Sam, he took a step back, and braced himself on the wall.

"I just need to get some air. It's too hot in here."

All four of them gave him looks of understanding. It was obvious that they thought that Kurt was still suffering from what had happened earlier.

_*"I can't"*_

Blaine stretched his arm out and touched his shoulder. "Do you need me to go with you?"

"No", Kurt said, shaking his head. To be honest, all he really wanted to do was run outside and begin his frantic search...but he really couldn't do that with _Blaine_.

"No, I'll be fine. Actually, I need to call Finn, and make sure my Dad didn't murder him for getting kicked out of the Prom for fighting with Jesse St. Sucker-punch. This would be an opportune time."

Rachel looked about to protest, only to wilt under Kurt and Mercedes' level gaze.

"That sounds like a good idea, Kurt. Could you tell him...that while I don't condone violence, I found it rather sweet that he wanted to protect my virtue?"

Kurt scrunched up his nose. "Really Rachel? Eww. Ok, fine, I will make sure to tell him that you appreciated his stint into macho-neaderthal-esk behavior...that is, if he's still alive after my parents got through with him."

Seeming to satisfy Rachel, Kurt pulled Blaine aside, and whispered, "I'm worried about Quinn. She was really looking forward to tonight, and had her heart set on being Prom Queen. Now that Finn's out, and I've won the crown, I think she might be a bit depressed. Do you think you could ask her to dance?"

Blaine smiled, and seemed to perk up like a puppy at the idea of getting to cut a rug.

"Hey! That sounds great idea Kurt! Sure! I'll see you in a bit!"

When Kurt was sure that Blaine was safely in Quinn's personal space, and Rachel and Mercedes had Sam sandwiched between them on the dance floor, Kurt made a mad dash for the doors that had been his focus since his King and ran out of them.

To be continued

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><p>So…how do you think my first venture into Kurtofsky is going? Reviews = Love!<p> 


	2. The Search

Author's Notes: Oh my goodness! I just wanted to say a really BIG thank you to everyone's possitive feedback and reviews! I'm so glad that you like this! =D

This chapter is mainly going to be about searching, and there isn't any smutty goodness in this chapter, but please be patient. I swear, it will be worth it! ;) I just have to lay the ground work of the story.

Ok, now that I have rambles and talked you all to do, ONWARD TO THE CARTOO-ehhh, I mean FIC! =D

Disclaimer: I wish I owned Glee. Alas, it's not for me. =(

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><p>The cold air hit Kurt like a brick wall. After being in the warm gym for so long, the shock of the chill sobered up his mind a little bit.<p>

Taking a moment to regain his equilibrium, he took a few fortifying deep breaths, and surveyed his surroundings.

Laying out before him was the Football field. Up ahead, and to his right, were the bleachers, the front of the school, and the Student Parking Lot. To his far left, lead to the Cafeteria, Court Yard, and the Library.

While the muffled sounds were blasting from inside, and the multi-colored lights made their escape through the windows and cracks through the doors, outside was virtually silent, and motionless.

Where do I even begin?

When Kurt was a very little boy, his Dad made sure to teach his son important survival skills. When Kurt was eight years old, Burt started to teach his little boy how to observe his surroundings. In no time, little Kurt gained the abilities of how to keep a sharp eye for details, how to take everything in, and especially, how to move swiftly and very quietly.

Of course, when Burt taught his son the skills his own Father had taught him, he had planned to take his little boy hunting when he turned ten years old. To Burt Hummel's surprise, and to his wife's humor and delight, Kurt used his impressive Hummel honed skill…for extreme shopping.

Kurt Hummel was a master tracker for top-notch fashion, rare finds, and good deals. Like a warrior going into battle, Kurt braved Black Friday's like a champion, and always got what he wanted, whether it be a gold silk scarf, a limited edition McQueen jacket, or a cashmere sweater, and all for an affordable price. To him, they were all "Game", a special prize, that he earned, and that he could only have.

In that moment, Kurt was pretty sure that his Dad, let alone himself, could not have predicted that he would have ever used his keen eyes to track down one lone Neanderthal Prom King.

_*" I'm so, so sorry, Kurt"*_

The_ tugging_ and **ache** nearly knocked him over, giving way to a bitter laugh, and a stinging in his eyes.

Taking out his handkerchief, he shook his head, and he wiped his eyes. Gathering his resolve, and putting on his best "Game Face", (Mercedes and Tina affectionately call it his "Bitch Face", while Finn would usually run and hide calling out, "SCARY-KURT" when faced with it), he hurriedly turned left, and raced towards the Court Yard.

He might not have ever expected to have had to go looking for David Karofsky…but he was. Life was strange like that. He might never have expected him to be, but tonight, David Karofsky was his "Game", his rare find, his prize.

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><p>An exhausted Fashionista walked towards McKinley High's bleachers, his ever growing panic starting to overtake him, and drag his feet.<p>

Kurt had looked everywhere for Dave. He ran around the school grounds, not once, but twice, and in his shoes, that was no easy feat.

He checked the doors by the cafeteria to see if they were unlocked. They were not, and all of the lights were off. This was the same for the library.

The Court Yard looked promising…until he realized that it was occupied by couples who had snuck away to make out.

Needless to say, Dave wasn't there either.

Kurt looked up at the night's sky.

_Where are you, David?_

As he slowly stepped up into the first riser, Kurt started to wonder what his next move should be.

If he were completely honest with himself, he wasn't exactly sure if it was a good or a bad thing that he couldn't find Dave.

On the one hand, Dave could have easily asked one of his Football buddies to drop him off at home. Dave could have gone home, showed off his crown to his proud Father, and could have gone to bed.  
>Dave could have been safe and warm this whole time, while Kurt ran around like a buffoon, looking for him.<p>

Instead of running circles around the school this cold evening, missing his Prom, neglecting his date, his friends, he could easily just give up, give in, and call it a night. He had done his civic duty, after all. He had looked, long and hard, and Dave didn't turn up anywhere.

He could then go home, face _his_ Dad, (Oh Gaga, how was he going to be able to look his Dad in the eye, tell him what had happened, without breaking down, and remembering that he had tried to warn him about wearing a kilt to Prom), take a shower, do a condensed version of his nightly moisturizing routine, and cry himself to sleep. He could tell Finn in the morning to call Karofsky, and see how he faired. It would be perfectly acceptable for him to do, and he wouldn't have to feel guilty for not finding him.

_Except…no, I would._

The truth was, Dave was a frightened, closeted jock, that had just witnessed just how cruel his fellow classmates could be.

Kurt's thoughts swam with the images from the news. Images of gay kids that have killed themselves flashed through his mind.

How many had similar stories to Dave? How many had been scared, closeted, and felt alone in the world? How many of them didn't have someone to run after them?

_How many had been pushed to come out in front of the whole school, before they were ready, by the very **male** Prom Queen no less?_

He would never forgive himself if something happened to Dave.

Dave had been doing so well. Between the Bully Whips, and his speaking out against violence and bullying in general, Dave had made progress, had come so very far from where he had been.

It came to Kurt that Dave had been close, so _very close_, to dancing with him, his Queen.

A year ago, had something like this happened, Dave would have yelled, screamed, and protested the moment Kurt's name was called. He would have refused to leave his thrown, and would surely have made Kurt's life a living hell for being crowned Prom Queen.

Kurt lazily walked across the bench seat, shaking his head.

Things were so different now.

Dave wasn't the boy he used to be. Sure, he still had a long way to go, but Kurt had seen something so uncommon, something so distinctive in the weeks that he had been back, the weeks he had spent time and gotten to know David. Kurt had seen what was on the inside of that boy, the true man behind his turtle shell. He saw who the real David Karofsky could really be…and he had been so, so very wrong.

David Karofsky was far, far off from being extraordinarily ordinary. Under all that gruff exterior, laid a beautiful boy, with a beautiful soul, and a brilliant mind.

But above all else, even though Dave still had his darkness, his problems, his **pain**, Kurt had realized that he was most importantly finding a really good _friend_.

Kurt felt himself start to tremble.

_How could things have gotten so screwed up?_

No, Kurt realized, he couldn't just give up, give in, and call it a night.

Dave might not have been a Marc Jacobs original, promised to be in a discount store, but just like that promised garment, he wouldn't be able to rest until he saw it with his own eyes, touched it's broad shoulders with his own hands, breathed in it's slight scent of Old Spice and pure **Male**…

Kurt cleared his throat, and smoothed his fingers through his bangs.

Looking around him, he was startled to see that he had walked farther up the bleachers than he thought. Traipsing back towards the middle of the highest bench, Kurt began to weigh his options.

As he saw it, he had one of two choices. He could either _A.) Stay and keep looking_, or _B.) Call Finn, get Dave's address, get in his Baby and drive to his house._

Kurt tapped his chin.

_What to do, what to do…_

Deciding that standing around on the bleachers was getting him nowhere, and fast, he jumped down, and started walking his way back towards the bottom.

He paused and looked up and the brightly star-lit sky.

For as cold a night it was, the stars were quite lovely, and the Moon was full and clearly visible.

If Kurt had believed in God, he would have used that moment to pray.

_Like that would really help me._

_'Dear Lord, would you please deliver unto me, one David Karofsky, former bully, math genius, and fashion victim of Wal-Mart brand polo shirts, alive and well, because I would very much appreciate it-_

From below him, all the sudden, a voice came from under the bleachers.

"Hummel?" a disbelieving voice said, " Dude, I can totally see up your skirt from down here."

Kurt rolled his eyes, and automatically shot back, "It's not a skirt, it's a kilt, you stupid Neander-" , he paused, and looked down through the slats underneath his feet.

"OH MY GOD!"

Kurt bent down for a closer look.

There he was.

It turned out Kurt's initial thinking in the Gym wasn't so far off, after all. After covering the school grounds on foot, Dave had not been on the bleachers, Dave had been under the bleachers.

Probably this whole time.

Kurt knew that in that moment, he should have felt relieved, happy, joyful even, that Dave was apparently safe, and not in a ditch somewhere.

Instead… he felt angry.

Suddenly, rage bubbled up from the fear that had been at the pit of his stomach.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"

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><p>To Be Continued.<p>

Reviews = Love


	3. Arthurian Phantom

Hello readers!

It has come to my attention that Kurt and Dave will, indeed, need more than fourty-five minutes time between Kurt leaving the dance,

to being in the middle of making love. *sheepish*

This actually caused me a bit of writer's block for a while, because the boys really _need_ that time!

So, I am going to correct this in the first chapter, and add an hour, so it will be an **hour and fourty-five minutes**, and things will flow more smoothy, and

I don't need to rush the boys along. =D

This is a short chapter, but I've had this story sitting for a while, and it really needs to get moving ot the good stuff! =D

There are some surprises ahead, some interesting characters will be popping up soon, and Dave might possibly already have an unknown ally on his side! ;)

Please enjoy! =D

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><p>Kurt couldn't remember the last time he had been this angry. Stomping violently down the chilled metal bleachers, banging and clanging down row after row in violent quick succession, Kurt heard curses that would even make Puck blush being ripped raw and burning from his throat. As he reached the bottom, he pivoted to the right, and started walking under, only to pause.<p>

He would have liked to have thought, even in his wrath induced fog, that he stopped purely for the fact that he was just catching his breath, to try to calm down, and have a civil conversation. He and Dave had been getting along, after all, and had formed a growing friendship. Just because he had been worried for David, it didn't mean that David deserved being yelled at. Not once since he had been back had the two argued to the point of shouting matches. He really didn't want things to regress, after all.

_But think about what happened last time you yelled at him._

_*Don't push me Hummel.*_

Last time, he had been kissed, by the boy currently shrouded in the dark, the shadows making their gentle cocoon.

Kurt would have liked to have believed that his cheeks were in bloom because of the physical exertion, that his breath escaped him due to the same reason. However, as much as he wanted to believe that…he made it a point to never lie to himself.

If a pair of jeans didn't fit his pear shaped hip perfectly, he would put them back, even if they were True Religion jeans, in his size, and half off during a Neiman Marcus sale. Dave was not the only one that used clothes to hide his insecurities. While Dave might have gone a different direction, and used his Letterman jacket to hide behind, Kurt used his fashion. Why would he wear something that highlighted what he didn't want to be noticed? It was always better to own up to his body image, and go look for something that made him look marvelous.

No, the truth was harder. The reality was that the scene before him was what made his blush intensify ,and kept stealing his breath away.

Standing just outside of the man-made cavern, Kurt felt like a timid Christine from _The Phantom of the Opera_, witnessing her Angel of Music for the very first time.

Draped in the shadows that the bleachers created, Dave was hit by the bright fluorescent lights of the school that filtered though the slats.

There he sat, legs crossed, shoulders slightly hunched, with his head tilted up towards the Counter Tenor. The light hit him in haphazard strips, highlighting only pieces of a tragically beautiful puzzle. Across a broad shoulder, down his firm looking chest, across a knee and even an ankle, Kurt could see strips of gray from Dave's expensive tailored suit, (which he would be lying if he didn't take notice, and be impressed with Dave's taste, and choice in clothing. He might not have seen the tag, but he knew Armani when he saw it!)

The beam of light that dashed across his handsome face reminded him of The Phantom's mask.

In that very same beam of light , he could see the glint of the plastic regal circlet tilted on tufts of dark hair.

High school Neanderthal jock or not, in that moment, he was so heartbreakingly handsome, that he put King Arthur to shame.

_Wow, he really needs to loose the Letterman jacket more often, and wear quality cut clothes in solid colors, because…damn._

The sight was enough to still him, enough to gaze at the Prom King in pure reverence, enough to almost completely forget why he had been so worried, so frightened, or freaking angry…

… until he noticed a certain patented, inquisitive, _perfect _eye brow lifted in question, and a smirk of amusement on his face pointed towards him.

Kurt felt the spell that froze him break, as he felt his anger reemerge and boiling over to dizzying heights.

"Wow Kurt, I didn't even think you knew half of those words!"

Dave continued to smirk as Kurt made his way over to him.

That was until he noticed Kurt's flared nostrils and tightly wound fists, as he got closer.

Dave's smirk melted away, only to be replaced by alarm, and concern.

Just as he was opening his mouth to ask Kurt if he was alright, he was cut of by Kurt's angry reply.

"SHUT UP YOU OVERGROWN BABBOON!"

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><p><em>Reviews = Love!<em>


	4. Sharp Dressed Man

Slowly but surely, this story will be finished!

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><p>Dave's jaw dropped as his concerned eyes narrowed, crease forming between his eyebrows.<p>

Kurt, with an impressive amount of strength, yanked at Dave's upper arm, nearly unseating him from the cold hard ground.

"GET OFF THE GROUND! YOU'LL RUIN YOUR SUIT!GETUPGETUP GET UUUUP!"

"Ok, OK! Geez Fancy, I'm up! I'm up-"

Kurt continued on his rant, hands flying about in the air, the more he was on a roll.

"IT'S EXPENSIVE YOU DIMWIT! I CAN TELL ARMANI WHEN I SEE IT! YOU DO NOT SIT UNDER THE BLEACHERS IN AN ARMANI SUIT! IT'S A SLAP IN THE FACE TO HIGH FASHION!"

Noting the wild look of rage and...something else in Kurt's eyes, Dave took a few tenetive steps bacwards. The Prom Queen lled his eyes and continued to yell and ramble at the jock, as he nudged him to the side, and walked up right behind him.

Kurt crouched down to get a better look at the damage to the fabric. Dave made a confused sounds of "Huh?" and "Wht the Hell?" as he tried to turn around to get a better looks at what the crazy beautiful boy was up to. Kurt huffed in frustration, following Dave in an awkward walking squat as the hazel eyed boy turned like a confused ballet dancing Russian bear. Kurt studied the fabric at the bottom of Dave's suit jacket, and the seat of his pant, trying to hastily wipe away the dirt and filth clinging to it.

Looking a confused and not a little annoyed, Dave had been about to ask Kurt what the hell was going on, and why Kurt was so mad at him...until he felt where Kurt's hands were.

He felt himself gasp as one of Kurt's hands firmly whipped and smooted down his clothed left cheek.

Dave shot shocked and nervous eyes toward at the conter tenor.

"Did you... just SMACK my ASS?"

Kurt ignored him, muttering to himself about crazy worrysome jocks, homicide, and maybe not needing club soda. He let out an animalistic growl and tightly gripped each of Dave's hips.

"STOP TURNING DAVID!"

Dave, who had promised himself to never yell at Kurt Hummel ever again ,to never ever have a reason to fear him, prided himself on his new found self control of his anger. He hd learned to take deep breaths, count to ten, and to think before he acted. After the horror and the emotional rollercoaster that he had just been through, topping off the fact that he was worried about Kurt, and confused, tired, an upset about him yelling at him, he couldn't hold it in any longer.

"STOP TOUCHING MY ASS KURT!"

"I'M NOT TOUCHING YOUR ASS!"

"That so? Sure feels like it from where I'm standing!"

"Oh don't flatter yourself, you big Oaf! That Dollar Store crown does not possess magic powers! You are COVERED in grime and I won't let you ruin a perfectly good suit! I'm cleaning your sorry butt off, although, I should be WHIPPING YOU for treating extremely high-quality material like a cheap pair of SWEATPANTS! Now HOLD STILL!"

Dave paused,tooks some much needed deep breaths, and stopped moving long enough to let Kurt finish...and feel him touch everything from his lower back to his thighs. He felt himself flush hotly, and was thankful that they were in the dark, and away from the prying eyes of the rest of the student body. Just to be safe, a quickly looked around, making sure they were alone. Satisified that they safe from rovong eyes, he let his eyes slip closed, just briefly, to saver the feel of those pale, smooth hands in places he had only dreamed about being touched. The fact that his hands were their, even through layers of clothing, made his breath catch, and his heart want to beat out of his chest. He prayed to whatever deities that might possibly be listening that Kurt didn't try to turn him around to clean the front of his pants.

Kurt himself was sporting yet another blush. He could think of a million times that he had pulled link off of Rachel or Tina's sweaters, or cleaned off Finn's or his Dad's sleeves and pant legs of powdered sugar or dorito cheese. It was a natural reflex for him. Crouching down at his King's feet, and rubbing his hands over his clothed body, Kurt realized that this was a bit different. Try as he might to be platonic and strictly in the business of cleaning this poor fashion illiterate idiot, he couldn't stop from noticing the firm roundness under his questing palms, or the strong thighs like tree trunks he glided his fingers over.

Grasping at something, anything to distract himself, he grasped back onto the subject at hand.

"You never know what's on the ground under here. I just pulled a postage stamp of Elvis off your jacket. Do you have any idea what the Cheerios do under here?"

"Uh, write love letters to Vegas Impersonaters?"

Kurt smakced his leg. "David!"

Dave rolled his eyes, looked over his shoulder and smirked down at Kurt.

"I AM on the Football team, Hummel, I think I have some idea",winking at him.

His smirk faltered from a particularly hard swipe.

"Would you STOP slapping me?"

Kurt, seeming to listen to Dave's request by picking off pieces of gravel instead, looked up from Dave's backside.

"What does that prove? I was on the Football team AND a Cheerio at one time."

Dave dropped the act , and shrugged his shoulders.

"...that you've heard the same stories I have?"


End file.
